


Accidental Recalibration

by Theeniebean



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Car Accidents, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Out of order storytelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 15:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theeniebean/pseuds/Theeniebean
Summary: After a fatal accident, Zim wipes some of his PAK data to try and avoid the pain. Now he has to traverse what's left, both internally and externally, in order to pull Dib back from the wreckage.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz/Tak (Invader Zim)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My tablet doesn't have spell check so uh, please tell me if you see any typos. 
> 
> This is going to have out-of-order storytelling too. Short start, will pick up!

I do not remember the Dib's voice. I do not remember his face, nor his eyes, nor the way he took his morning mud drink. Did his face crinkle up like all the meat stinks do when they smile? Did his eyes leak salty water during sad movies? How did his absurd amount of fingers feel entwined with mine? I imagine he was warmer than necessary, especially at night. 

The sheets, at least, still smell of him. I confirmed the scent as his through DNA testing. 

I purged the bulk of my Dib data from my PAK two weeks after that filthy, pathetic scrap of nothing stole my victory, stole my triumph. Stole My Dib. The alcohol my human kept on the top shelf of the cabinet had suggested it would be a good idea in order to stop the hurting, but it turned out to be a disgusting liquid liar. The glass skeleton of the bottle is melted onto the floor in the lab - on one hand, it had been very therapeutic to vaporize, but on the other, so very...melty. 

I have observed him from past security logs since then, trying to piece together what I can. I have scoured data from every scrap that the base could provide - but there is nothing from my eyes, no sound files to replay from my PAK. Nothing of Zim's and Zim's alone. Everything is heresay, nothing is intimate.

I jam a finger against the play button again anyway.

Dib from his formative years, puny - dressed head to toe in black as he attempts to breach the gnome defense grid. Failing, obviously.

Dib, the bony 'age of teen', tripping over his feet and yelling in shifting pitches as he slams a shoulder against the front door. Laying on the cement, clutching said shoulder and twitching a few moments later. The metal strapped to his teeth catches the sunlight and I shudder. Terrifying. I'm glad I don't remember that. Humans are scary.

And on, and on, and on. He ages before my eyes as the feed progresses, skool to hi-skool to the absurd time when there was supposed to be more education, but then he appeared halfway through the first winter month of the 'cool egg' and requested my assistance. 

There were no more cool eggs after that, although my Dib certainly ate them, (there's more than enough footage of Dib in the kitchen to corroborate that), so I'm not entirely sure why he had to move away for additional eggs. He did eat them cooked, though - maybe the temperature was a factor...

I shake my head. I cannot get distracted, not again. 

Dib coming and going as he pleased, now - the base no longer a fortress of his enemy, but now housed defenses of his own. I rest my chin against the palm of my hand, watching. Dib napping on the couch, Dib watching television. Dib, damp with rain and dripping - dripping! SO WET, SO DANGEROUS! I instinctively pull my feet up onto my chair to be safe, just in case... 

I pause the feed as he leans down, forehead against my own, hand on the back of my skull. Both of our eyes are closed. He looks content, I am...smiling. It is a small moment, insignificant. I cannot recall it, and my spooch churns. I can count the amount of times we had done this in the base; I have counted the amount of times. 

It is too few.

My head is in my hands as I resume the feed. There is a clue somewhere, there has to be. He had to have mentioned it.


	2. Chapter 2

//ACCESSING STORED PAK DATA//  
//HIDDEN FILE//  
//SUBFOLDER//  
//FAMILY FUN DAY - YEAR THREE//  
//DO NOT DELETE//  
//IMPORTANT!//  
//DO NOT FORGET WHY//

I hate human vehicles. They're so dull. They have weight and height requirements that I do not meet for obtaining the front co-pilot seat. Normally, my Dib allows me to sit in the 'shotgun' position - a valid title, I feel - but his creator does not agree and requires that I adhere to the manufacturer and federal guidelines for passengers. 

However, Dib does have extraordinarily long legs, so this does facilitate his comfort, so I am willing to make this sacrifice for him. I shall remind him of my heroic deed later. 

Today, we are joining his family unit on the annual trip to a dining establishment. It is my Dib's choice, and he refuses to concede the choosing to the Gaz. This is apparently a 'sibiling' thing, and a custom that I do not understand. The rules are as follows:

1) The entire unit gathers at the Membrane household. The unit consists of:

a) Professor Membrane.  
b) Dib Membrane.  
c) ZIM!   
d) Gaz Membrane.

Ordinarily, Tak (eugh) would be required to participate with the unit, but she has Other Obligations. I am unaware of what these obligations are, nor do I care. She is disgusting and I hate her, but if I say these things, the Dib-sister will assault me with a metal napkin dispenser again. 

RULE TWO!

2) We engage the vehicle of the Membrane family and drive to the establishment that was chosen by the selected sibiling. 

3) Family fun is had by all. This is a requirement. I have yet to receive a clear definition as to what 'Family Fun' is. I have survived two of three outings by speaking when spoken to and not offending the Dib-sister in any way, shape, or form. The first outing has been purged from my PAK data to avoid feeling queasy.

4) All members of the unit return to the Membrane household via the shared vehicle for an awkward farewell, followed by an immediate departure in our own vehicles. This is the best part of the evening. 

UNOFFICIAL STEP FIVE!

5) Dib stops at the adult beverage store. I am instructed to guard the vehicle. He returns with a large bottle. I receive a gift of jelly beans and a Suck Puppy to bribe GIR with. We return home. All is well.

We are on step three now, awaiting our entrees. The dining establishment my Dib has chosen is of a higher caliber than usual. It pleases me to see his tastes are strangely more refined than I have come to expect. There is an actual tablecloth. There are multiple pieces of cutlery, and they are made of actual metals. I have the overwhelming sensation of being underdressed. 

The Professor asks each of his creations in turn what they are achieving this year. Their responses are adequate. The Dib-sister is establishing an initiative to destroy, in her words, "sexist pig-boy asshole babies who bug me in ranked matches" by programming their computers to self-destruct when they engage in toxic behavior. My Dib, he discusses his biomechanical work, his progress on our project. He does not specify what the project is, having failed to prove my identity to his creator numerous times previously and is unwilling to "get into it" further.

I kick my legs idly, enjoying the atmosphere. Enjoying Dib beside me, letting his voice wash over me as he speaks. 

And then he turns to me, slipping the fork from my hand. He looks nervous, but determined. Sweat beads on his forehead. Instantly, I'm on alert, scanning the room. Are we under attack? Why did he remove my fork? It is a good weapon in a pinch. Is the Armada here? No, they wouldn't be, my sensors would have indicated their approach. A local army? The police? Have they discovered me? I--

He puts a small box on the table between us and takes my hand. "Zim, there's a tradition here on Earth and I'd like to, uh. Do it with you. I guess." He pauses. "Fuck, that sounds lame, let me start again." 

"Get on your knee, stupid." Gaz calls from the other side of the table, crossing her arms.

Dib swears again, gangling his unnecessarily long limbs out of his chair. He snatches the box as I look on in confusion. What Urth tradition involves tiny boxes and knees? I wrack my brain, and then my PAK and-- 

THE ROMANTIC COMEDIES! 

"YOU ARE BRIDGET JONESING ME, DIB MEMBRANE." I yell, pointing accusingly, bringing the entire room to a clattering, stunned silence. Dib stares up at me from his one-knee, ring box half-opened. He looks down at the box. He looks back up at me and nods slowly, questioning, obviously confused. Clearly, he has not seen the Bridget Joneses, nor the Love Actuallys. I scoot my chair around to face him properly, sitting with my legs crossed, hands folded neatly in my lap. "Continue your obviously amazing speech about how amazing we are together, Dib-heart."

He hangs his head, sighing for a moment before looking back up at me. "Yeah, uh. Right." He clears his throat. "You've been a big part of my life since...well. No, you've been my life since I was a child. Everywhere I went, you were there, and everywhere you went, I made sure I was there too. And, now that were older, well. I. I want to make sure that keeps happening. Everywhere you are, that's where I want to be. And it's going to happen whether or not you say yes because a ring doesn't really mean much to either of us, I think, but it's a very human tradition, and I figured, you know, it might be...nice. I guess. Uh. ...fuck." 

His entire face is red now. It suits him, but he doesn't seem to think so because he takes a breath, scowling at himself. He swears under his breath again, so low that only I can hear. He looks up again at me, fire in his eyes. There he is - my rival, my Dib. "Zim! Marry me!" He thrusts the box at me.

His resolve begins to falter after the second minute of silence. I look around the room expectantly, frowning. "...Zim?" He hazards, quietly.

"What?"

"You're...you're suppose to answer."

"I thought another suitor was supposed to come crashing through the window to fight you for my hand, and then you two would end up in a fountain."

"What? No."

I huff. Disappointing. "Oh. Well, then yes." I snatch the ring box from his hand and collect my prize. It's very shiny, a silver band. He's obviously made it himself, since no Urth ring would have a band that would fit me. Dib rises with a grin and sweeps me up into his arms. There is more applause. The population of the establishment revels in our happiness. Somewhere, someone utters a 'wahoo!'. Victory for Zim! And Dib. 

The Professor pays for the meal and congratulates us on our impending union. The Dib-sister supposes she is happy for us. The event then progresses to rule four.

I sit behind the Professor, Gaz to my right. She teases Dib about wearing white, a custom I am not sure I understand. They play fight like smeets around the back of the front seat. The conversation in the vehicle is easier than usual. It is peaceful. I play with the band on my finger. It is physical proof of my bond with the Dib, my Dib. I look over at him. He looks back at me and smiles.

There is a loud noise, a blaring of horns.

There is static.

There is blood. 

There is so much blood


	3. Chapter 3

I rub my eyes, the emotional fatigue ripping through my frame more than I'd thought possible. Tomorrow, I have been summoned to the Dib-sister's recovery chambers at the medical facility. I do not know her condition, though I have asked. I am not family, the medical drone has said - I have no right to the information. 

My PAK jolts, clawgrips clamped to the appropriate ports, just as I'd programmed. And they'd made it sound so difficult, those foolish little PAK techs back home. My left leg keeps kicking as I lean forward, balancing on the right as I make a few more calibrations. The modifications shouldn't be too much of a strain on the system - a quick system restore, just like an Urth computer. Just like the Dib's laptop. 

It had taken so many hours to find, and even more days to rig a program that could scour my PAK for any hidden data that hadn't been truly deleted. In essence, it would function the same way as the Urth system restore - find, recover, and "roll back" my PAK data to the last acceptable date. ...if PAKs could even do that. Which-- WHICH THEY BETTER.

Another shockwave slings its way through the wires skewering my PAK. I twist at the knees, gripping the edge of the console and screw my lips together to guard against my scream. If GIR gets distracted from his cartoons for even a moment, I'll have more to worry about than just my missing data.

I heave a sigh as the trembling finally passes. All that's left to do is engage the program. I glance up at the monitor again, and then to the right, to a coveted photograph of my Dib taped to the edge. It is a candid shot, with 'age 19' written in crisp blue ink on the back. He is speaking to someone I have ripped out of the image, but it had been a friendly conversation by the look of the smile on his face. The sunlight had been at just the right angle to bring out the amber in his eyes, and the autumn leaves were at just the right time in their life cycle that the reds and golds made him shine. 

I am an Invader, I know no fear. 

I am an Invader, I know no fear.

I am also technically a fry cook, and that fleetingly crosses my mind as I engage the program that could completely erase all that I have ever been.

//VISUAL DATA CORRUPTED//  
//PARTIAL AUDIO SALVAGE//  
//PAK Data Recorded: SKOOL, Year 10//  
//PAK Data Entry: Skoovian Encounter//

"...just shut up and let me think for a second!" 

"Eugh! You are the one doing all of the unnecessary noise-making, pig-stink, it is YOU WHO--"

"ARGH!" 

[The organic slap of flesh against flesh has been detected. Audio filtration software indicates species Irken and custom designated 'hoo-man' in origin. This is followed by the sound of 'hoo-man' flesh against metal, Skoovian-hull type.]

[Inaudible noises recorded.]

'...cking 'ose!" 

"If you humans weren't so pathetically squish-prone, you wouldn't be leaking your blood candy." [Mechanical audio detected; PAK functions recorded, OBJECT EXTRACTION::TISSUE35/56.] "Tilt your head back, Dib-stink. Disgusting."

"'uck 'ou." 

"What?"

'UCK. 'OU."

"What?"

[Inaudible noise recorded.]

[Contact with foreign contaminant detected. Custom tag, "DIB-BLOOD", found. Organizational tag hierarchy command, designation: hoo-man: enemy: maim: revenge.]

[OVERRIDE "DIBSMILE???WHYISITLIKETHATOHNOWHATISTHIS???" ENGAGED PER UPDATED PAK PROTOCOL EFF. MISSION DATE ROTATION THREE, MONTH TWO, DAY 4.]

"EUGH. ENOUGH! Let's just find the bridge so I can get this stupid, inferior ship back to the atmosphere." [Pause.] "Are you finished leaking?" [Silence.] "Eugh, no. Keep that covered up, you're all red and gooey. Filthy dirt child."

[Several minutes of silence, broken only by the sound of footsteps, doors, and other tippity-taps.]

//AUX FEED ATTACHMENT ACTIVATED//  
//DECK VISUAL FEED ESTABLISHED//  
//AUDIO/VISUAL DATA RECORD AVAILABLE//

Dib has his camera out, flash going off every few seconds, illuminating the vast bridge. It was empty, save for the two organics that had entered. The cool, grey aesthetic that had followed them from the hold had carried through into the main structure - these aliens clearly did not hold much stock in form over function. 

Zim took his place in the captain's chair, PAK plugged into the system as he tapped a claw idly against the armrest. He let out another frustrated groan as the camera flashed. "Would you STOP with the flashy light, you dirty little pig-smelly? I'm TRYING to turn off the auto-pilot." The Irken attempted to kick his legs up onto the dashboard twice, wiggling his noodly legs to gain traction, before settling them into a slackened, stretched out cross at the ankle in front of himself. 

Dib turned and snapped a photo of Zim, grinning despite the blood on his upper lip. "What's a matter, space boy? Feeling neglected?" He sauntered toward and loomed over the would-be invader, putting on his best coddling voice as he reached out to pinch Zim's cheeks. "Don't you worry, Zimmy-wimmy, I would never forget my favorite widdle--"

//FIREWALL DETECTED//  
//ATTEMPTED BYPASS//  
//EXECUTE? Y/N//  
//Y_//  
//BYPASS FAILED//  
//Y_//  
//BYPASS FAILED//  
//YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY_//  
//BYPASS FAILED//

A klaxxion blared to life, plunging the bridge into crimson reds and shrieking terror. Dib slammed his hands against his ears, turning toward the panel in front of Zim. "The hell, Zim? I thought you'd have at least--"

"I DID--" 

//IRKEN PAK DATA DETECTED//  
//FAILSAFE OVERRIDE ENGAGED//  
//CYJA GAS ENGAGE//

Zim immediately slammed his hands over his mouth, antenna flat against his head. He had no time to warn Dib, but at least it wouldn't be --

The hiss of the dispenser was lost against the siren's wail, but the mist descending upon them was not. The Irken set to work immediately, urging his PAK on to try and breach the firewall again while the human frantically worked on the console. 

Crook of his elbow to his mouth, Dib could feel his eyes watering from the need to breathe. Stupid Zim. Stupid ship. Stupid him, for not bringing along a small oxygen tank on what was supposed to be an ordinary trip to the aquarium. A regular day, maybe splash Zim at the stingray tank, eat some overpriced food, see a shark, and not have to endure poetry day in literature arts. 

Maybe suffocation was still better than literature arts.

A kick behind him grabbed his attention; Zim, still holding his breath, made pointed gestures and mimed breathing at him. 

'YOU' Zim gestured, making a gigantic circle with his hands around his own head before pointing at Dib. 'BREATHE' He continued, moving the circle down to his chest, compressing the circle into smaller and larger balls. The alien gave him a thumbs up and a smile, and then pointed at himself and gave a thumbs down while frowning. 

Was the poison toxic only to Irkens? Could he breathe it? Was it worth the risk? His lungs were burning from the inside out with the need for clean air. It wasn't that he didn't trust Zim; they'd had an uneasy truce for about a year now - but Zim was Zim, and...and, and his lungs made the decision for him.

And the air burned. Every inch of his body burned with that first gulp of air, bringing him crashing to his knees. It was like swallowing fire. He tried to keep it out, but it was all he could do to stop the screaming, let alone stop breathing again. His fingers dug into his arms, toes curled inside his boots; he writhed around on the steel floor, the cold metal like ice against his cheek offering no solace. 

He didn't notice Zim on top of him, hands on his shoulders, a wild, wide-eyed look about him. Hours could have passed, minutes, or eons. The alien had his lips against Dib's, and the blaring noises had stopped, and the red lights were off. And Zim was whimpering, and the pain had lessened, and there were tears - his own, but then new ones, warm, dripping against his cheek as Zim broke his lips from the human's and rested his forehead against Dib's own.

"Zim is sorry, Dib-thing. Had Zim known you were also a clone, I wouldn't have--" 

Dib headbutted him.


	4. Chapter 4

The Dib-sister's medical room is a terrifying place, but better than the cadaver room that holds Dib several floors below. My breath hitches as I think about him down there and I stomp my foot to purge the thought, eliciting a low growl from Tak to my right. We await the medical drone's permission to visit the Dib-sister; her disgustingly germ-ridden fingers clattering away on an inferior human keyboard with no haste behind the movement. We are required to be on our best behavior - that is, I am required to be on my best behavior. Or I will be shot by Tak. Repeatedly. 

...if she can catch me. Which she can't. And then I'll shoot her first. My polite, dutiful smile at the medical drone desk attendant grows. Her facial expression does not change; the dour woman simply hands us our badges. Tak takes my hand, thanking the service drone on my behalf, and our perfect infiltration of the hospital progresses. 

"You're only here because she asked to see you." Tak whispers harshly, trying to drag me along, even as I keep pace. We both flash our teeth at a small child, who starts to cry. I duck inside an elevator and she swears in Vortian, slipping through just as the doors close. 

I utter a swear of my own as I stop slamming my finger against the 'close door' button. "I don't need YOU to escort me, Tak. I know where the Dib-sister's room is." I have no idea where her room is, but she does not need to know that.

She responds my shoving me against the cold metal wall, laser from her PAK all but kissing my face. "I don't need YOU jeopardizing her recovery. You've already ruined my life twice, DO NOT make it a third." She shoves me once again before quickly resuming a relaxed, casual stance on the other side of the elevator as the door opens. Several people shuffle in. I adjust my wig, coughing, straightening my winter coat. An older woman looks at me and inches away, her haggard face carrying that mixture of human disgust and pity I've come to recognize over the years. It is the 'natural' response to my 'deformaties'. 

Were I in a better mood, I might fake a germ-ridden sneeze on her to gauge her reaction. As it stands, I simply wish to see the Dib-sister. To see Gaz, for my Dib. Tak takes my hand again as the doors slide open, smiling at the humans towering above us. She smiles at the nursing staff, who know her by name and greet her fondly. She introduces me as her sibling - a disgusting premise. And then, more quietly, with more tenderness than I'd ever could have imagined, I hear, "...and Dib Membrane's fiance." 

The humans in the ward pause, all the medical drones cease their pratter. The silence is deafening, sickening. My spooch churns. The first time I have heard those words spoken aloud since that day, and it is from Tak's hideous mouth, to these inferior people. My limbs suddenly feel different, wobbling, terrible. My face is twitching, I cannot breathe. I clutch myself, hating it, hating it - I cannot show weakness, not here, not in front of Tak, not as Dib lays down there - but the words echo in my mind, as his fiance, _his fiance,_ the human word rattles its way through my system. A happy word, a word of union, a joining. I can't breathe. My PAK attempts to override my organic systems, but it cannot gain traction. Tak is hissing at me, but I cannot hear her. She is squeezing my hand, but I cannot feel her.

The floor is off-white, with brown speckles. It has numerous scuffs. There is a ringing. I cannot think, I cannot move. I taste blood, is it my own or is it Dib's? Where is Dib? I look around. A medical drone has her hands upon my shoulders. She is guiding me to a chair. It is unsanitary, with itchy green fabric pulled tight over a wooden frame. She is speaking. She is kind. Her face is lined, but unlike the elevator human. There is a difference, inherently, but I do not understand it on a conscious level. 

"Breathe into this, honey." She gently presses a brown paper bag into my hands, guiding it to my mouth. I do as she instructs as she takes a seat beside me on the discomforting waiting chairs. She rubs my back. It is...nice. I...

I do not want to.

Please.

Not here.

Not in front of the humans.

Not in front of Tak.

"I-" The word catches in my throat, my esophagus closing. "Tak." I rasp. 

The nurse pauses. "She went in to see Gazlene; do you need--"

I drop the breathing bag to the floor with a limp thud as I curl in upon myself, tucking my face between my knees, whispering a denial as loudly as it takes for her to hear it. Please do not. Not here, Zim. You must maintain yourself. Do not fail. Failure is not an option. The mission. Your mission. You cannot fail Dib, you cannot--

White-soled sneakers appear in my field of vision. The humans exchange quiet words. The kind drone slips a cup of water into my hands. "I lost my husband several years back." She begins, "A semi driver fell asleep during a long-haul. Never saw him coming." Her hand grips my shoulder as she rises. "I still can't go on the freeway to this day." She laughs, and I am confused. "Bruce would call me crazy. He'd say it was a freak accident. Anyway," I look up. "You drink that now, it'll help. And take as long as you need. I won't tell anyone if you stay passed visitng hours." The drone winks. "Miss Tak sneaks out well after midnight and thinks I don't notice." 

She leaves me with the poisoned cup.

But she is right, drinking it would make me feel better. 

...

Instead, I wait until she has left the area and upturn the cup onto the seat next to me. 

Taking a deep breath, I stand, taking note of my limbs, my face. I did not leak, I am presentable. I smooth my clothing. The drone did her job, and, for that, I am glad there is such a thing as competency on this planet after all. I place the cup in the nearest recycling bin and locate the Dib-sister's room. I knock twice. Tak opens with an expression I cannot describe...annoyance? Pity? Revulsion? But it's gone before I can pinpoint it; she steps aside, revealing the full horror of Gazlene Membrane.

I had known the details of her records - it had been laughable to hack into the facility's systems. But knowing and seeing are two different animals. Among the multiple contusions, broken bones, and other injuries, the ventilator stood out among the rest. The tube unceremoniously shoved down her throat was a sickening display of the latest in Earth's lifesaving technology. By Irk, was this planet a primitive nightmare. 

Her eyes, buried behind everything, were on me in an instant. Woe upon anyone who entered this room and mistook the Dib-sister as anything but less than she has always been. Tak shoved me forward, rooted to the spot as I was, closing the door behind us. Swallowing thickly, I approached. "DIB-SISTER." I begin, over the beeping of the infernal monitoring systems. "You are looking as scary as ever! I-- I..." I can't help it, trailing off as I lose steam almost immediately. She raises an eyebrow. Tak has circled the bed and taken a seat beside her partner, crossing her arms. I decide to do the same - take a seat, that is.

The sound of the chair scraping against the floor is obvious and distracting - a wonderful diversion. Dib used to do the talking at these "double dates", as infrequent though they may have been. I pull myself up onto the seat, swinging my legs as I look around. "SO, eh. Nice, eh. Room. You got here. Very. ...hospital. Beepy. Good aaaaaand beepy. Yep. Uh-huh. Beepy." 

Tak rolls her eyes and sets a small tablet on the bed beside Gaz's good hand. I lean forward curiously as she sets to typing with the competency only her particular skillset could achieve one-handed. After a few long, quiet moments, she stops and indicates to Tak to pass the tablet to me. 

Reading it takes but a moment, but... "I'm fine!" I lie, laughing, waving my hand and the tablet. "Zim is--" The Dib-sister's eyes narrow, the slit so finite that it is impossible to know where her lower lid ends and the top begins. The secrets of the universe are hidden within her lashes. I set the tablet down immediately. "Zim...could...be..." She cracks an eye open slightly. It is not unkind, somehow. Her eyebrow raises again. My resolve shatters and I bury my face on her bed, digging my claws into her bedsheets. "I miss him, Gaz." I say, muffled. "I need my Dib back." 

There is a shuffling as the tablet passes back and forth, and a feeling of pressure as Gaz shifts slightly. More typing, and then - the heavy, but delicate thwack of a cast against the top of my skull. I look up, surprised she could even move the monstrosity of her injuries - but then, when had Gaz Membrane been limited by anything in her life? The fire in her eyes is mirrored by the word of the tablet in my hands. 

_Whiner_. 

Attached is a map of Membrane Labs.


End file.
